Fantasy day
by cookie-geek
Summary: My idea about how Grissom and Sara got together. Short and sweet.


**Disclaimer**: None of it is mine….. poor little me

'Oh, and may all your dreams come true' said Anthony Caprice as he turned and walked away, smiling a little to himself as he saw the shocked expressions on the faces of the two CSIs he left behind, sure he had correctly guessed their deepest desires, which were, as he had hinted, far more visible than they liked to believe.

Grissom shook his head slightly to clear the unsettling feeling that this stranger had just read his innermost thoughts, and slipped his mobile phone out of his pocket. He concentrated on dialing the number in full, shunning the speed-dial to gain precious seconds before he had to make eye contact with Sara, hoping to regain his composure.

'Willows' the voice answered curtly and professionally.

'Hi Catherine, we've checked out the address and had an interesting conversation with Mr Caprice himself.'

'Oh yes? Did he fulfill your every desire? ' Catherine teased, all traces of professionalism replaced by mocking innuendo. Grissom ignored her, but couldn't help catching Sara's expression and felt his heart jump at the sparkle in her eyes and the smile that was twitching at the corner of her mouth.

'No, but he'd carefully constructed the evening for our vic. We've got the script and are heading back now, we'll see you back at the lab'

'His script or yours….?' Catherine just managed to squeeze in another suggestive comment before Grissom unceremoniously hung up.

With no further excuse he turned to face Sara, her smile having extended to a decidedly mischievous looking grin. Feeling uncharacteristically impish himself he gentlemanly offered his arm, saying 'shall we?' to the great amusement of his younger companion.

Sara took his arm, and, in a playful mood herself decided to take a risk, banking on the fact that if it backfired she could blame it on Caprices's suggestive comments.

'So, what would your fantasy day involve? ' she asked her boss and sometimes friend with a forced casual air that she prayed sounded breezy. Sara felt Grissom's arm tense slightly, but didn't dare sneak a sideways glance at him as she could feel his eyes burning into her.

Grissom took a deep breath, thought for a second and, with a smile of his own playing roguishly on his lips he began.

'Well, it would have to begin with my receiving an award from the International Entomology society for discovering a new species of beetle.'

Sara giggled, both relived and disappointed 'not a cockroach?'

'No, not cockroach' said Grissom, feigning seriousness. 'A very specific type of beetle, a dendroctonus ponderosa'

'A what?'

'A mountain pine beetle' said Grissom using his lecturing voice, which Sara always found irresistible.

'Why that particular type?' Sara asked curiously.

'Dendroctonus ponderosae Hopkins have dull shells, but I'm convinced that once, as a child, I saw one with a shiny shell. We were visiting relatives in Canada and I'd gone for a walk when I saw it resting on a pine tree, but unfortunately I didn't have any of my books with and when I got back the only reference I found to what I thought I'd seen specifically said 'dull shell'.'

'So you could already actually have discovered this bug?'

'Beetle, Sara, and yes, though I still need to prove it'. Sara could see the car approaching, and tried to spin out the conversation, and arm holding as long as possible.

'So once you've got this award for discovering this dendroctonus grissomus beetle thing, what do you do to celebrate?'

Grissom leaned closer and whispered in her ear 'its dendroctonus ponderosa sidlus, actually' then leaned away again before she was sure she'd heard properly. He was trying to gauge her reaction to his statement, but as she seemed only to look confused, he decided to make it even clearer, aware that he'd spent the past however many years they'd known each other sending her decidedly mixed messages.

'You see the magical thing about this beetle is that the iridescent brown of its shell is exactly the colour of your eyes'.

Sara again felt his eyes burning into her, no doubt looking for a clue as to what she was thinking, which she wasn't quite sure of herself, having gone from being curious about his fantasies, mildly disappointed they didn't involve kissing her, geekily interested in the bug thing, and then as he turned it all around and her hopes were beginning to rise again that the kissing thing may not be quite so out of the question. However her hopes had been dashed before so she chose to continue with her original line of questioning.

'I'm sorry, so how do you celebrate discovering MY beetle?' Their eyes finally met and each of them seemed to see in the others the same amusement, desire and something more serious, perhaps fear.

They stopped in front of the Denali and Grissom leaned against the passenger door, trying to look relaxed but clearly blocking her from getting in and, not quite sure what to do next, he answered her question.

'Well, my award would have been presented somewhere grand, the Sheldonian building in Oxford Uuniversity would be suitable, but since this is a fantasy I see no reason why we shouldn't celebrate with lunch at the Hungry Crab, a seafood restaurant along the beach from where I grew up.'

Sara joyfully but silently acknowledged the subtle shift from 'I' to 'we', and encouraged him to go on: 'that seems fair, a few thousand miles are certainly insignificant in the realms of fantasy'

Grissom inclined his head to accept her support and continued. 'We kick off our shoes and walk barefoot along the sand to the restaurant, which is about half a mile from the nearest parking spot. That makes the restaurant always quiet, but the food's good enough that it's never empty.'

Sara thought it sounded delightful and was suddenly very aware of herself physically. She thrust her hands deep into her pockets, now there was no arm to hold onto, and rested next to Grissom on the car, mindfully keeping a couple of inches of air between them.

'What do you have?' she asked, not being able to think of anything else to say that wasn't far too suggestive.

'Shrimp salad' he stated definitely.

'And me, what do I have?' They were both relaxing a little more now, and he turned to face her and raised is eyebrows in amusement, 'well, whatever you want'.

'Clam chowder'

'Ok, you have the clam chowder. Both dishes are excellent and …'

'How do you know mine is excellent, you're not trying any?'

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to share!'

'Well, its my fantasy, so you have to'

Sara folded her arms in mock indignation but let him continue.

'We have a bottle of the house white, perfectly chilled, and pancakes for dessert '

'That all sounds perfect, then what?'

Grissom hesitated, unsure if he wanted to say anything more. Everything so far had been friendly. Suggestive? Yes, but he had not yet passed the point of no return, and he had made many suggestive comments over the years to Sara without following through. Not something to be proud of though, he thought to himself. He erred on the side of caution.

'Then we go home'

'Where's home?'

Grissom thought carefully, not entirely sure he knew. 'Using my artistic fantasy license again I would say home is a cross between Las Vegas, with our jobs and friends and California with the ocean breeze and great sea food.'

He felt like he had missed an opportunity to say so much more, but admitted to himself that he'd been running away from doing so for so long he wasn't sure he could. Having exhausted his courage he dared to try one last thing.

'Your turn. What would your fantasy day involve?'

It was Sara's turn to hesitate, playing back in her mind his last rejection and all the other times he'd hurt her. All the times that he'd lead her on only to shut her out again. She wanted to be strong, laugh off everything he had just said and not said and go back to the lab and pretend everything was ok. But everything wasn't ok. She had had feelings for this man since she'd known him, and despite all the emotional battering she'd taken for it he had just admitted that all his fantasies revolved around her. Not in the way she'd been hoping for, perhaps, but his idea of a perfect day was inextricably linked to her, and maybe that was enough.

Her mind made up, and before she could change it again she turned towards him and whispering softly 'the day I get to do this', she kissed him.

The moment stood still for both of them.

Grissom felt the softness of her lips on his and felt all his worries slip away. He didn't care about their careers, the age difference or any of his usual excuses; he just wanted to kiss her forever.

Sara couldn't quite believe she'd done it, but the second she did and felt his lips respond to hers the euphoria hit. He pulled her round to face him properly and enveloped her in his arms. She'd never felt so comfortable in all her life, and wanted it to last forever.

When at last they pulled apart and faced each other, again their eyes were mirror images. The fear was still present, but now masked by the desire and something else, the happiness.

Grissom was lost for words, so he didn't try to speak, but pulled Sara close one last time and brushed her forehead with his lips, before wordlessly opening the passenger door for her, with the biggest smile on his face she had ever seen.

Sara grinned back and hopped into the Denali with a lightness she hadn't felt for a long time.

They didn't speak for the whole journey back, but caught each other sneaking sideways glances like shy teenagers the whole way.

As Grissom pulled into the parking lot, he turned to Sara and, weighing his words carefully asked 'so was that merely a fantasy or could it be a reality? I don't want to confuse the two.'

Sara smiled and, the mischievous spirit that had started this whole chain of events seizing her again said 'it can be whatever you want it to be'.

Grissom seemed relieved and pressed on 'in that case Miss Sidle, I was wondering if I could request the pleasure of your company at, breakfast, lunch or dinner, or whichever meal seems most appropriate at the end of shift.'

'I would be honoured' Sara replied, trying not to jump up and down like a small child as she climbed down into the car park. 'Bring on the end of shift'.


End file.
